Sugarland
by Pacquin
Summary: Series Finale, post-ep. Scully struggles with her choice; Mulder gives her another one.


TITLE: SUGARLAND  
AUTHOR: Pacquin  
E-MAIL: pjtdjt@stellarnet.com  
CATEGORY: MSR, Angst  
RATING: R  
SPOILERS: Series Finale, post-ep  
  
DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and its characters are the  
property of 1013 Productions and Twentieth Century  
Fox and its subsidiaries, and are used without  
permission.  
  
SUMMARY: Scully struggles with her choice; Mulder  
gives her another one.  
  
TO THE READER: This is very different from the  
type of story I usually write, so your feedback is  
doubly appreciated on this one. I was working on  
something nice and fun, but I couldn't get the  
finale off my mind ... just had to write it out of  
my system.... My sincere thanks to everyone who has  
e-mailed me with comments and suggestions.  
  
***************************  
***************************  
  
It is their second night together on the edge of  
nowhere.  
  
They drove for three days, or a little more,  
driving endlessly, it seems to Scully. After  
Roswell, Mulder drives east, toward Texas. She  
doesn't even bother to ask where they're going, or  
why, not right away at least.   
  
A while later he turns north.  
  
"Canada," Mulder says, glancing at her. "We're  
going to Canada." He scans the horizon for several  
minutes before he speaks again. "There are things  
in Canada that I need to see."  
  
She doesn't answer.  
  
"It'll be easier for us to blend in there," he  
comments. "English-speaking...." he trails off.  
  
There's another reason as well. Canada has a  
very liberal attitude toward people seeking  
political sanctuary; you just pull up to any border  
crossing and request asylum, and after about an hour  
of questioning, you're allowed on your way. It's  
easy to blend in, be anonymous, disappear. But  
still, she has her worries. She doesn't think that  
the "military hearing," that kangaroo court Mulder  
was subjected to had any legitimacy to it, she  
doesn't think that his name will be listed as a  
convicted felon, awaiting execution, as they cross  
the border, but Canada does extradite.... If they  
use their real names, that is. She doesn't know  
what Mulder has planned.  
  
"Sanctuary," Mulder says, as if reading her  
mind. "If we need it, we can use it."  
  
But after Colorado, where they stop at an ATM to  
get the money that Doggett and Reyes have arranged  
for them to have access to, Mulder heads east again.   
"Not a direct route, Scully," he says by way of  
explanation.  
  
And so here they are, nearly in Canada. They've  
stopped to rest. "I need to rest, Mulder," she  
says. "I want to stay here ... just for a couple of  
days." She can't imagine a more isolated place than  
where they are.  
  
Mulder nods his head.  
  
So here they are, in a cabin on the edge of  
nowhere. They found this place yesterday, fell  
exhausted into bed and slept until the next morning.  
It's quiet here; they are the only people around.   
The rancher who owns this land has four cabins for  
rent; in the autumn they're booked for weeks at a  
time by out-of-state hunters looking to bring down  
game, elk and big-horn sheep; but it's summer now,  
so there are no people. The log cabin is neat and  
clean, but nothing fancy. There's no hot tub, no  
satellite hook-up so that you can watch a thousand  
movies. It is one large room: the living room area  
contains a slip-covered couch and two oversized  
chairs; there is a small bookcase with a few  
magazines and books; she doesn't know what they are,  
she hasn't checked them out yet. To the back of the  
cabin is a queen-sized bed, carefully made, covered  
with a homemade patchwork quilt; and a small  
bathroom. A kitchenette, everything in miniature--a  
small stove, refrigerator, sink; some dishes,  
pots and pans, cutlery; coffee pot.  
  
"What more could anyone want--" Mulder starts  
to tease her, then stops.  
  
*************************  
  
Scully showers first.   
  
The water here is strange; it smells peculiar,  
like iron. The rancher tells them that it's from  
minerals leaching from the soil into the water  
supply. "Make sure you use the bottled water in the  
kitchen for drinking," he tells her. "And coffee.   
It won't kill you or anything, if you do drink some,  
but most people don't like the taste."  
  
But the soap is nice, she thinks, raising the  
homemade white bar close to her face to inhale the  
fresh, faintly spicy, woodsy scent.   
  
She finishes showering and towels herself off,  
then slips a cotton sleepshirt over her head. She  
walks back into the room where Mulder is looking out  
the large window at the front of the cabin; the sky  
has darkened to a blue that is almost black, and the  
stars are glittering brightly overhead.  
  
"Want to go sit outside for a little bit,  
Scully?" Mulder turns and asks her. "It's still nice  
out."  
  
She shakes her head. "I think I'll just go to  
bed, Mulder."  
  
"Okay." He watches her as she walks toward the  
bed.  
  
She gets under the covers and turns on her side.   
She does nothing but sit in the car while Mulder  
drives--he's driven every mile of the way here--but  
it's tiring nonetheless, sitting there, hour  
after hour. Mulder remains looking out the window  
for a few moments, and then she hears him head for  
the bathroom.  
  
She hears the slide of the shower curtain,  
listens to him turn on the water. Not many minutes  
pass and she hears him turn the water off. It  
doesn't take him long, she thinks. He leaves the  
light on in the bathroom, then closes the door  
nearly all the way, so that there is a slight blur  
of light around the edge of the door; and then he  
comes over and gets into bed with her.  
  
The clean scent of the soap is on his skin as  
Mulder fits his body next to hers; he feels faintly  
damp, and cool, and she lies there, trying to  
breathe quietly and evenly. After a few moments she  
feels his fingers push her hair from her neck, feels  
the softness of his lips as he kisses her there. He  
touches the curve of her shoulder, and then he  
slides his hand down to her hip. She lies there,  
breathing softly, not moving; maybe he'll think  
she's asleep.  
  
He doesn't, though.  
  
Mulder strokes her hip through the soft, thin  
cotton of her shirt; he nuzzles her neck, his lips  
insistent upon her skin.  
  
She shifts away from him. "I'm tired, Mulder,"  
she says.  
  
It is quiet for a few moments; she hears the  
sheets rustle on his side. After a few moments his  
lips are at her neck again, his hand sliding her  
sleep shirt up and over her waist.  
  
"No." She pushes his hand off her and pulls the  
shirt down over her body.  
  
It is utterly silent, and then she feels Mulder  
pull away from her and turn onto his back. There is  
more rustling, and she feels the mattress dip as he  
sits up on the edge of the bed. The rustle of  
clothes now as she hears him pull on his jeans, and  
then more sounds. She hears his almost silent  
footfalls as he crosses the room; hears the creak as  
he opens the door, feels the cool rush of air as he  
goes out into the night, the wooden door rasping  
against the frame as he shuts it behind him.   
  
It's the fifth time she's told him no.  
  
But who's counting.  
  
**************************  
  
She awakens, or thinks she does, in the deep  
dark of the night. She isn't even sure that she has  
been asleep; but she must sleep sometimes, she knows  
she must, because when she opens her eyes time has  
passed.  
  
But she doesn't dream anymore, so it's hard to  
tell.  
  
It is dark, and for a moment it is darker still,  
and hard to breathe, and she realizes that her shirt  
has been pulled over her head, and now she is lying  
naked on her back.  
  
Mulder is on top of her now, his body pressing  
into her, his lips hot against her skin, seeking her  
mouth. He kisses her hard, his tongue pushing into  
her mouth, silencing any protest she might have  
made. His hands are all over her, all over her, all  
over her.... He cups her right breast with his hand  
and squeezes her possessively.  
  
He is so much more substantial than she  
remembers. She feels him put his knee between her  
legs, feels the coarse hair on his legs brush  
against the soft skin of her thighs as he lies on  
top of her; he feels heavy, and male, and she knows  
what is going to happen to her.... He spreads her  
legs apart with his knees, takes one hand and  
reaches down to guide himself into her.  
  
"I'm not ready," she says, struggling beneath  
him, "I'm not ready...."  
  
He enters her, penetrates her, pushes in  
slowly.   
  
Mulder lies motionless on top of her, inside  
her; he tangles his fingers in her hair, and she can  
feel the hard line of his jaw pressing against the  
side of her face. He inhales deeply and holds his  
breath, and then exhales; and then he begins to move  
inside her ... that slow secret slide she hasn't  
felt in so long.  
  
No words this time. Very different from the way  
they usually make love; Mulder's words to her when  
he's inside her, fucking her; his words to her, his  
lips pressed against her ear, that litany of love  
laced with obscenity that alternately makes her  
laugh, then burn with a hot excitement for him.  
  
She burns with it anyway ... wordlessly.  
  
Her body is more than ready for him.  
  
She brings her arms around him, her hands on his  
shoulders, damp with sweat now, then strokes his  
back, his muscles contracting and expanding with  
every thrust he makes inside her. "Mulder...." she  
whispers, kissing the spot she knows he likes, just  
below the hollow of his throat, bringing one hand up  
to stroke his hair, resting her hand on the back of  
his neck, holding him.  
  
Mulder is breathing heavily now, and he begins  
thrusting into her harder, and faster; and Scully  
arches her body against him, presses herself into  
him, slides her legs higher on his body, opening  
herself wider, and moves with him. She's in this  
with him, all the way....  
  
He raises himself slightly on one elbow, slows  
his thrusting, and takes his hand from her hair and  
strokes her face. "I need you," he gasps, looking  
into her eyes, "... need you, Scully."  
  
She needs him, too, although she doesn't say it.   
  
And then they are moving together, faster,  
moving toward the end of it, and Scully feels it  
start, that sensual heat of desire that starts  
between her legs, the heat that travels up her body  
... her breasts, her neck, her face; she arches  
harder against Mulder, feels his hand upon her right  
breast, stroking her, hears the harsh gasping he  
makes as he thrusts inside her; and then her own  
sounds, a high-pitched moaning in her throat,  
longing for it, the release of her body with his,  
and now now now, the thrumming sound in her ears as  
she comes, crying out for him. She grasps his  
shoulders, burying her face against him, her tears  
mingling with his sweat as he grips her tightly,  
feeling his muscles tense against her hands.   
"God... I'm coming," he gasps,"...I 'm coming ...  
Scully ... I'm coming inside you...."   
  
It's very dark, even with the light from around  
the edge of the bathroom door. They lie there,  
close together; she can't see his face in the dark,  
and he can't see hers. It feels familiar, and  
unfamiliar, lying in his arms again. "You were so  
worried about me forgiving you, Scully, for letting  
William go, for trying to find a safe place for him  
in this world," Mulder says quietly, through the  
darkness. "Maybe you can't forgive me, Scully.   
Maybe you can't forgive me, for leaving you alone to  
make a decision that you should never have had to  
make by yourself."  
  
She's silent for a moment. "You've done nothing  
that you need to be forgiven for, Mulder, by me or  
anyone."  
  
Several minutes pass. "Are you sure?" he asks.  
  
She nods her head silently against his chest.  
  
She can't tell him why she didn't want to make  
love with him; that it seems wrong, somehow, to be  
normal, to be ... she can't even say the word out  
loud....  
  
She hasn't felt it in so long.  
  
***************************  
  
He thinks that's what it is, why she didn't want  
to make love with him, because she blames him for  
leaving her all alone with the baby, leaving her in  
a situation she couldn't control. Mulder thinks that she   
resents him for what his absence compelled her to do, send their   
son away for other people to raise. He thinks she was  
all alone, with no one to rely on.  
  
It's not true, of course.  
  
She knew she couldn't keep William safe, at  
least not the way things were, and she had decided  
what to do, pretty much; and then she had asked to  
see them. Maybe she was hoping that somehow someone  
had come up with a solution.  
  
They had all come to her apartment: Skinner,  
the Gunmen, Agent Doggett, Monica Reyes--everyone  
she trusted. They had sat up late into the night,  
first arguing with her, then gradually, as the night  
wore on, coming to accept her decision. Everyone  
knew how impossible it was; even the Gunmen with all  
their sophisticated surveillance equipment hadn't  
been able to stop William being taken from them. She  
remained in control; she knew she couldn't break  
down, couldn't let them see that even the most  
barely workable solution would have caused her to  
change her mind. She was firm, cool and composed as  
she listed her reasons, as calm as if delivering a  
standard autopsy report.   
  
She had cried, but not until the very end.  
  
Everyone had left, except Skinner. He had put  
his arms around her, and she had leaned against him,  
and cried. He had tried, everyone had tried,  
everyone had tried to find a solution, given an  
opinion.  
  
Well, not quite everyone....  
  
Her mother.  
  
She had taken a deep breath before opening the  
door to her mother's house to tell her mother of her  
decision. She could hear her blood pounding in her  
ears as she walked into the living room to tell her  
mother what she'd done, what would surely break her  
mother's heart. And her mother had cried, and  
Scully had cried, and her mother had tried to talk  
her out of it. She had offered to take the baby  
herself, to disappear....  
  
"Mom, that wouldn't be a normal life for  
William, living on the run with his grandmother.   
And if something happened ... if you were found...."   
Scully looked into her mother's eyes. "If something  
happened ... how could you ever bear it...." She  
put her hands over her mother's trembling ones.   
"How could I ever bear it...."  
  
She had broken her mother's heart. And she knew  
what that felt like, because now she had a mother's  
heart of her own to break.  
  
But she thinks her mother understands, precisely  
because she *has* a mother's heart, that she  
understands what a mother will sacrifice for her  
child. She thinks her mother forgives her for what  
she's done.  
  
  
  
Scully doesn't want to think what he would say.  
  
She's fairly certain that he couldn't say  
anything to her that she hasn't said to herself  
already, but still....  
  
Passed the buck, Starbuck.  
  
You passed the buck. Didn't face the music.  
Threw in the towel.  
  
Scully shivers.  
  
She wishes she could forgive herself.  
  
*********************  
  
Morning light filters through the cabin's big  
window, waking her. It's warm during the day, but  
night and early morning are chilly. It's almost  
like the mountains, thinks Scully, but they are far,  
far from the mountains here; here on the vastness of   
the northern plains. Mulder is sitting outside the  
cabin on a wooden bench, watching the rising sun  
take the deep lavender shadows from the scoria, the  
red rock of the Badlands of North Dakota. They are  
only a couple of hundred miles from the Canadian  
border. She hands him a mug of steaming coffee.  
  
They say nothing, merely sit there together,  
looking out at the landscape. It was odd, that you  
came upon this place, otherworldly, almost; canyon  
after canyon of harshly carved red rock after a  
peaceful drive on the green grass of the plains.  
  
"The Badlands," Mulder says. "Do you know why  
they're called the Badlands, Scully?"  
  
She shakes her head.  
  
"The Native People told the white explorers that  
they were 'bad lands to cross.' There are no  
landmarks; the rock formations are so similar that  
it's next to impossible to find your way across  
them, it was easy to lose your way.... People got  
lost and were never found." He drinks some coffee,  
then sets the mug down on the ground beside him.   
"Badlands." He sits there staring into space, then  
leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees,  
bringing his hands together and resting his fingers  
against his lips, tapping them gently. Neither of  
them speak. And then he says something else, says  
something that she can barely hear. "Sugarland," he  
says quietly, meditatively.  
  
Scully raises her eyebrows and looks at him.  
  
"'The Sugarland Express.' An early Steven  
Spielberg movie. Did you ever see it, Scully?"   
  
She shakes her head again.  
  
"It was about this couple. They sort of live on  
the edge; the guy is a not-too-bright small-time  
crook; the girl is a not-too-bright victim of her  
background. But they love each other. They have a  
baby together; the guy is in jail and the girl is  
forced to put the baby in foster care, to give up  
the baby to a couple. But she wants the baby back,  
and so she helps him break out of jail and they go  
to get their baby back. Sugarland. That's the name  
of the town where the baby is. And that's what the  
movie's about, what happens when they go to get  
their baby back from Sugarland."  
  
It's a quiet morning, Scully thinks, standing up  
slowly. The wind blowing through the trees, the  
birds singing. It's peaceful here. She shifts from  
one foot to the other.  
  
"It ends ... how...." she said quietly.  
  
Mulder looks at the ground. "Not good," he says  
shortly. "It ends very badly as a matter of fact."   
He shoots her a quick look. "But that's not to say  
that it would end badly for us, Scully, if we go and  
get him back."  
  
She holds her breath.  
  
He looks at her, fixing her with his gaze. "When  
you were taken from me, Scully ... when you were  
infected with the alien virus...." He glances away,  
then back at her. "I went to the fucking end of the  
earth for you, Scully.... I went to fucking  
Antarctica to get you back." He stands up and  
stares out over the shadowed land. He turns and  
looks back at her. "I'd go to the ends of the earth  
again for you. I'd do anything for you. And if you  
want William, then I'll get him back. If that's  
what you want."  
  
Red rock, red rock, red rock, red rock, red  
rock.   
  
She repeats the syllables over and over again to  
herself, trying to gain control of herself, to keep  
from crying; but it's no use, and her eyes fill with  
tears. "I don't know, Mulder. I don't know what I  
want. I don't know what the right thing to do is.   
I thought I was doing the right thing, but I don't  
know now...." She turns away from him, moving out of  
the sunlight that has suddenly become too warm.  
  
"Just tell me, Scully," she hears him say. "Tell  
me what I need to do. Because I know that I can't  
stand by and watch you die by inches, from   
loneliness, or guilt, or grief, whatever it is  
you're feeling." He comes up behind her and says  
quietly: "The Great White North or the Sugarland  
Express, Scully. I'll do whatever you want,  
whatever you need."   
  
****************************  
  
She knows where the baby is, more or less.  
  
It was her only condition.  
  
It was a sealed adoption, like in the old days;  
William's new parents knew very little except that  
he was a healthy baby. Sealed on their side, but  
not on hers.  
  
Skinner had arranged it.  
  
She wasn't sure how much power Skinner really  
had, but he had *some* left, anyway, enough to pull  
some strings and work out the baby's adoption for  
her. He listened to her requirements, then made the  
arrangements. She had only a few, actually,  
requirements; she didn't care what religion he was  
raised, but she wanted them to be educated; and she  
hoped that they would have decent table manners.   
Better than Mulder's, anyway.  
  
After it's over, she looks at Skinner.  
  
Skinner is upset, and he can't meet her eyes at  
first; but then he does, and answers her silent  
question. "In the West, Dana. Very remote. He'll  
be safe there."  
  
She nods.  
  
*****************************  
  
Mulder is staring out at the Badlands.  
  
She hasn't given him an answer.  
  
"If you can't be happy, Scully," Mulder says,  
"if you can't be happy without William, then we  
might as well all go down fighting together. Maybe  
that's our destiny. And his."  
  
Scully looks at Mulder standing there in front  
of her, standing in the morning sun against the  
backdrop of the Badlands, the place where people get  
lost, lose their way. And she knows the truth  
about herself, what she would tell her father, if he  
were here: That she did not give up, or pass the  
buck, or throw in the towel. She loves William, her  
child she carried within her body, Mulder's son.   
She did what any mother does instinctively: She  
found a safe place for her little one. And even if  
that safe place isn't in her arms, or by her side,  
it doesn't mean she loves him any less, or that she  
is any less of a woman for having sent him away.  
  
And she thinks she might be able to forgive  
herself, after all.  
  
The Sugarland Express, she thinks.  
  
She realizes that Mulder loves her, loves her  
more completely than even her father did. Mulder  
knows she did the right thing, finding a safe place  
for William. But he recognizes that she wants to do  
the wrong thing, to go and get him. Mulder, with all  
his integrity, is willing to do the wrong thing, for  
her. Mulder is willing to go and get the baby for  
her. Mulder loves her, even with all her flaws,  
even when she wants to do the wrong thing.  
  
She matters to him, as much as his quest for the  
truth.  
  
And she realizes, too, that there can be no  
quest, not with the baby. She can't endanger  
William; Mulder doesn't know what it's like, with  
the baby, but he will, he'll see the impossibility  
of it. They won't be able to continue looking for  
the answers; and she can't be separated from Mulder,  
not again. She couldn't bear it.  
  
She thought she had braced herself for it, the  
pain and guilt she felt in making her decision to  
send William away; she acquired a new, sharp, fierce  
pain to accompany the dull ache of loss she felt for  
Mulder. For a while she wondered, truly, how she  
could go on. She'll never get over it. She'll never  
be the same again. She'll never be happy.  
  
But she is.  
  
Surprise.  
  
She's happy with Mulder. In this shabby cabin  
on the edge of nowhere, drinking coffee and looking  
out at the jagged edges and sharp peaks of a  
landscape that could be another planet, she is  
happy. Making love with him. The sense memory of  
his body on her, and inside her. His semen seeps out  
of her as she stands there with him. Maybe she'll  
hold out her hand to him, and they'll go back  
inside, get into bed together, and make love.  
  
She's happy, all alone with Mulder.  
  
She decides to forgive herself for that, too.  
  
************************  
  
Mulder stands and stretches, raising his arms to  
the sky. He turns toward her. "Where to, Scully?   
North, south, east, west. You tell me."  
  
She clears her throat. "North," she says.   
Mulder looks at her carefully. "North. To Canada.   
So you can see the things you need to see."  
  
Mulder pauses, then squints into the sun. "No  
Steven Spielberg?" he says, looking back at her.  
  
"What, Mulder, you think Steven Spielberg can  
get us out of this?" says Scully, giving him a slow  
smile.  
  
Mulder smiles, too. "Him and Bill Gates  
together, maybe."  
  
She laughs, and reaches out and touches his arm,  
then turns to go back into the cabin to begin  
packing. Mulder stands and reaches out for her,  
stopping her.  
  
"We'll find a way out of this, Scully. We will.   
And I don't know how, yet, but we'll see him again,"  
he says quietly, looking at her.  
  
He takes her into his arms then, and she puts  
her arms around his back; they stand there, in the  
morning sun, holding each other. Scully blinks  
rapidly, trying to hold back her tears, and she  
feels Mulder's lips pressed against her hair.  
  
"Believe, Scully," he says, "just believe."  
  
********************************  
********************************  
  
Thank you for reading. 


End file.
